


brown-paper-wrapped

by porcelainsalt (bluedreaming)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Crumple-Horned Snorkack, F/F, HP: EWE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8351353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/porcelainsalt
Summary: Sometimes failure is success after all. At least where non-existent magical creatures are concerned.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ackermanx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermanx/gifts).



> For my recipient: I wasn't exactly sure what you would like, so I hope you find this enjoyable. Thanks!

 

"Merlin’s beard," Ginny swears to herself, glaring at the poor owl whose only misfortune is being the bearer of bad news. The owl hoots sadly, it’s a hard-working post owl from the looks of it and she finds herself melt a little in the face of its obviously long flight.

"I’m sorry, little one," she says, pulling open a cupboard to rummage through the tins and boxes, scrunching up her nose at what looks like some strange new tea contraption Luna must have left last night, before she locates a small twisted paper of owl treats. "Here you go and thank you for your trouble." The owl leans forward to peck delicately at the small treat standing out against the brown paper before straightening to give one last hoot, of thanks this time, and flying out the window.

The kitchen is quiet in its wake, only Ginny standing next to the kitchen table as a gust of wind blows an armful of snowflakes through the open window. Luna would probably laugh, and perhaps gather up the fine sprinkling of white along the window ledge to form a snowball with cold fingers, but Ginny shivers instead. Taking a few steps to cross the wide boards of the floor, she reaches out into the chilly December night to pull the window shut. Outside, the stars are twinkling brightly in the smooth darkness of the night sky.

Ginny gives her head a small shake, summoning the chocolate mix with her wand and ignoring the small cascade of tea bags and small boxes that tumble out onto the counter as the kettle comes to a boil with another flick.

"Hmm," she sighs, sinking into the kitchen chair, mug of hot cocoa in hand. Luna prefers home made hot cocoa and always makes hers from scratch, insisting that the instant stuff attracts Nargles, but Ginny rather likes the dusty taste of the mix. It tastes, strangely, like independence: growing up and living by herself, out from the watchful eye of her mother and her well-meaning but still smothering expectations. She peers around the small but cosy kitchen, eyes glancing over the archway to the hallway and small parlour, the front door only partially visible from this angle, and the warm shadows stretched in the other direction to the bright and airy bedroom with an adjoining bath, and the smaller office next to it that she uses to store her Quidditch equipment.

Christmas Eve flashes on the calendar, the square right after today’s square, the blank space conspicuous in the absence of anything. Ginny frowns, and takes a particularly large sip of hot cocoa only to cough in surprise when the hot liquid hits her tongue. She always forgets about the Ever-Warm mug that Luna gave her for her birthday this year, not particularly useful mid-August between games and practice sessions with the sun staring down their backs. It’s nice now though, especially now that the team is on holiday break and she can snuggle up in a rug before the fireplace.

There’s a louder crackling of flames from the parlour, as though the fire can tell she’s thinking about it, before a muffled clang rings through the flat and Ginny almost chokes on her hot cocoa again before remembering that she’d locked her floo yesterday just in case Luna arrived early from Devon. Wiping the drops of milk off her lip with her sleeve, she abandons the Ever-Warm mug on the table, grasping the frame of the door with one hand to swing herself around the corner and launch herself towards the hearth, a habit that usually has her brother grinning at her when he happens to catch her doing it, remarking that, "you spend so much time on a broomstick, you can’t help but do maneuvers on the ground too," to which she always replies by sticking out her tongue or elbowing him in the ribs, whichever is more convenient at the time.

Ginny dismantles the floo guard spell with a swish, reaching up to smooth her hair behind her ear even though her hair isn’t in the way; it’s an absentminded habit that she can’t seem to shake herself of, especially when she’s conflicted about something, and right now she both hopes that it’s Luna in the fire but also hopes that it isn’t.

The shape of the person who tumbles out of the grate is decidedly not her—well they’re at that strange stage where Ginny isn’t quite sure what to call Luna, because there’s no word for a combination of childhood friend, best friend, girlfriend, sometimes-flatmate and everything else in between—her Luna, to call a spade a spade.

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny says, brow arching in surprise. It’s not that her sister in law isn’t a common visitor, at least when Ginny is in town, but on the day before Christmas Eve, Ginny would have expected her to be busy with Rose and Hugo and assorted Christmas preparations. Although, now that she thinks of it, this _is_ Hermione after all. Everything was probably wrapped up days ago. "Care for some cocoa?"

Hermione nods absently, reaching behind her to pull a large brown-paper-wrapped parcel of—something. Ginny pauses in her step towards the kitchen to gape at the monstrosity.

"What on earth?" she asks, eyes meeting Hermione’s only to see her grinning in obvious delight.

"I heard that you were trying to hunt down a Crumple-Horned Snorkack," Hermione says, and Ginny finds herself flushing. This is Hermione she’s talking to, and—

"How can I be looking for something that doesn’t exist?" Ginny says, before Hermione can beat her to it. She sighs, and leans against the wall. Hermione doesn’t say anything, apparently waiting for Ginny to finish her train of thought. "I know, but I still—" She waves her hand, gesturing into thin air.

"I know," Hermione says, and she looks sympathetic. She also looks ever so slightly pleased, and Ginny finds herself leaning towards the brown-paper-wrapped parcel in growing suspicion.

"You didn’t—" she says, and then bites her tongue, because of course Hermione hasn’t, Crumple-Horned Snorkacks don’t exist after all, but it would just be so convenient—

"I’m afraid not," Hermione says, laughing, "but little pitchers have big ears and Rose and Hugo and I needed a Christmas holiday project." She shrugs, not bothering to elaborate. Ginny just shakes her head.

"Well thank you, anyway," she says, peering up at the mysterious thing, considering what she should do since she can’t very well leave it here; it’ll be the first thing that Luna sees when she arrives.

"It was fun," Hermione assures her, pausing before she takes a pinch of floo powder from the radish-decorated flower pot from Luna that Ginny keeps it in. "I wouldn’t try moving it too much or the wrapping will come off, and that was honestly a bother to stick on. Perhaps a temporary invisibility charm?" Ginny nods, waving Hermione off and murmuring the words as the brown-paper-wrapped thing fades into the wallpaper.

"We’ll see you at the Burrow for Christmas dinner!" Hermione calls, as the fire whisks her away.

 

 

 

 

Ginny wakes up with a start, heart jumping as she blinks open her eyes, peering around the walls in sleepy confusion before she realizes that the floo alarm is chiming.

"Blast-ended skrewts," she mutters under her breath, fingers digging around the sofa cushions for her wand only to almost tumble onto the floor in a tangle of spotted afghan before she catches herself on the edge of the coffee table and extricates herself.

"Good morning," Luna says brightly once she steps from the grate, pale fingers gently brushing lingering soot from her shoulders. Her hat is bright purple, pulled down warm and fluffy around her ears and Ginny, in her still-groggy morning state, imagines climbing into it like a blanket before she blinks, shaking her head to clear out the cobwebs of sleep.

"How was your dad?" she asks, both skirting the coffee table and managing not to stub her toe, a minor morning victory, as she reaches for Luna’s cloak.

"He was very enthusiastic about his trip," Luna smiles softly, reaching up to brush a strand of red hair out of Ginny’s face. "I think it’ll be good for him to get away for Christmas." Even though she just saw her a few days ago, Ginny’s heart still does that funny flip flop it always seems to when she hasn’t seen Luna for a while, as though it’s shifting back into place, and without even thinking she leans forward to press a soft kiss to Luna’s mouth. She tastes like candy canes, lemon grass, and something that’s just her.

Ginny grins, drawing back a hand’s breadth to see Luna’s smiling back at her. "I’m glad to see you too," Luna says, slipping out of Ginny’s arms with a warm pat to her shoulder before setting her bag down on a chair, when—

"Oof," Luna exhales, rebounding off of what Ginny realizes too late is the invisible and yet still irrevocably solid brown-paper-wrapped thing. Luna glances over her shoulder to peer at her, expression curious, and Ginny just ends up laughing.

"I guess you found your Christmas present," she says, voice a little rueful as she reverses the charm. Luna gazes up at the slope of brown paper and a smile begins to curl around the corners of her mouth, even before she vanishes the wrapping.

Ginny sucks in a breath in surprise, the sound thankfully obscured by Luna’s small sound of muffled delight.

"You got me a Crumple-Horned Snorkack!" she exclaims, clapping her hands together once as she looks up at the huge stuffed animal. It’s honestly quite impressive, and Ginny’s definitely going to need to add a few gifts, or a dozen, to the small pile she has waiting in the closet to take to the Burrow when they go for Christmas dinner.

"I’m sorry it’s only a—," she begins, but Luna interrupts, shaking her head even as her eyes sparkle.

"Mr. Sniffs is the perfect house guest," she says, reaching out to stroke the soft purple skin, almost fur. "Unlike a wild specimen, he’ll be very happy to remain indoors and not track about dirt."

"Mr. Sniffs?" Ginny asks, holding in a laugh at the fact that Luna has named it already.

"It just seems to fit," Luna says, turning back to Ginny to envelop her in a warm embrace. "Thank you, I love it to bits." Ginny reaches her arms up to wrap around Luna’s back, and they stand there for a moment before the fire, Mr. Sniffs looking on in polite silence.

"I’ll have to get some extra treats for Hugo and Rose," Luna says absently, drawing back after a moment, and Ginny can’t help but chuckle at the fact that Luna somehow always seems to know. "That was very kind of them to help," Luna says, raising an eyebrow at Ginny’s merriment, and Ginny just nods.

“Of course, you’ll have to wait for your present just like everyone else,” Luna adds, and Ginny can’t hold in her laugh.

“Of course,” she agrees. "Come on, I’ll put the kettle on for tea.” They leave the perfect house guest in the parlour as they head down the hallway to the kitchen, hand in hand.

 


End file.
